


Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night

by Meg_Thilbo



Series: 14 Days of Writing [9]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dwarven Ones | Soulmates, Fix-It, Fluff, Gandalf Ships It, M/M, everyone ships it, reunited, so does Galadriel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-11
Updated: 2016-02-14
Packaged: 2018-05-19 18:53:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5977513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meg_Thilbo/pseuds/Meg_Thilbo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bilbo arrives at the Undying Lands, he believes he would never see Thorin again. What he didn't count on was a meddling wizard and another adventure that would take him to the Halls of the Dead and beyond.</p><p> </p><p>ALL FICS IN THIS SERIES CAN BE READ INDEPENDENTLY</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Wise Men at Their End

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badskippy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/gifts), [chrisdurin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrisdurin/gifts), [etux](https://archiveofourown.org/users/etux/gifts), [sensi_and_tea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensi_and_tea/gifts), [Emsiecat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emsiecat/gifts), [Stevie_Foxx](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stevie_Foxx/gifts).



> I'm going to have to alternate between writing this one and King Under the Ocean I'm afraid. I had this chapter queued up for saturday but I haven't been able to write the next chapter of KUTO so I'm going to do this fic today and I'll either have the next chap of this either tomorrow or saturday, and the final chap of KUTO on the opposite day. This fic will be finished Valentine's day.  
> I'm sorry for all the kafuffle, my hands are really siezing up today- writing 4k words of uni notes and adjusting microscopes does that to me. 
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy! This fic is the special fic of the series and is based on the popularity of my shipper trash Gandalf tumblr posts ;)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 14/02/16  
> Happy Valentine's day! It is with the ending of this fic that I gift this work to some awesome individuals who have supported me here or on tumblr or both, and make me laugh :3 Thank you <3  
> (knowing me I have probably forgotten someone so if I end up adding more people soon, just flow with it, and I'm really sorry if I do! xD)

_Do not go gentle into that good night,_  
_Old age should burn and rave at close of day;_  
_Rage, rage against the dying of the light._

Dylan Thomas

 

Bilbo’s eyes searched the small crowd as their boat docked at last on the shores of the Undying lands. He hadn’t raised the question with Gandalf, fearing the answer he would be given. The hope with which he had set sail now withered in his chest when his search came up empty.

_He wasn’t here._

A firm hand on his shoulder reminded him of his companions and, giving one nod to Elrond who stood by him, he slowly walked down the ramp towards the docks, leaning heavily on his stick as he felt his joints protest.

The faces that stood above him were that of elves, the small party that had assembled to welcome the last elves to their new home. Many of them looked down on him and nodded their heads in acknowledgement of him and his nephew Frodo who had just caught up with him. The boy had been deep in conversation with Gandalf about something, of what he knew not, they all seemed to have their own secrets.

As did he.

He barely paid notice to the muttering or voices around him, it was of little consequence no doubt and he simply wanted to find somewhere where he could finally sit and get comfortable. Comfort was hard sought after these days.

But as he raised his head to finally take in his surrounding, something stirred within his chest. A deep longing and something akin to sadness.

“See mountains again…” he muttered to himself as he saw that they were surrounded by peaks that stretched far into the north and south. Far removed from the mountain that he knew.

A chuckle resonated from behind him, one that he recognised as Gandalf’s. “Behold the Pelori Mountains,” he said, “They stretch around the coasts of these lands, sheltering the heart of this land from the turmoil outside of its borders.”

Looking to his side, he saw Frodo gazing around him in awe but also carrying the ghost of memories that Bilbo did. Bilbo had not been the only one to see mountains after all.

“Our home,” Frodo sighed, casting a smile down at Bilbo who did his best to return it.

No, Bilbo thought to himself, home was now behind him. A new world was ahead.

And it wasn’t quite home yet.

*

It wasn’t until they were sat within the halls of a villa set by the shore that Gandalf approached him with an unusual proposition.

Bilbo gazed down at his wrinkled hands that were illuminated by the fire in the hearth. His skin was far more papery than he would have liked, his joints too swollen and painful for him to comfortably grasp a book anymore. The elves had offered to read to him but it wasn’t the same. Reading was a private thing, one meant for the solitude of one’s own mind. Hearing the words just didn’t paint the same picture as reading them did.

And he’d long given up smoking before Frodo had returned from his journey. As his chest ached with the barest of breaths, he found he could take no more pleasure in that which he’d once greatly enjoyed.

“I hope you didn’t think you could keep this from me,” Gandalf said as he sat down in the empty armchair, next to Frodo.

Bilbo didn’t need to see to know the remark had been directed at him.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bilbo said as casually as he was able.

“Oh you know perfectly well Bilbo Baggins. You have been keeping this a secret for far too long!” There was no malice within his tone. An ounce of concern was there, hidden with his insistence of an answer.

“Uncle, what is he talking about?” Frodo asked gently, forcing Bilbo to look at them both sternly.

He rested his arms on the arms of his chair. “What does it matter?” he bit out, “Whatever has happened, I put behind me.”

“But what about your feelings?” Gandalf asked, “Have you put those behind you?”

Bilbo’s anger sank but his resolve faded little. “What gain do you seek by opening past wounds?” he asked quietly, turning his eyes back to the fire so he wouldn’t have to see Frodo’s worry and concern. His past needn’t be burned on his poor nephew who had already endured so much.

“A chance of putting things to right.”

“Don’t,” Bilbo said firmly, his anger and sadness returning as he fixed his eyes on Gandalf’s kinder eyes. “There is no bringing back the dead. I know that, you know that, the whole population of middle earth _knows that!_ Do not offer false hope when there is none.”

“Can this wait?” Frodo asked Gandalf, “You’re just upsetting him. I don’t know what this is about but it surely cannot be worth the anguish that my uncle clearly feels on the matter.”

Gandalf smiled gently. “Your concern for your uncle is admirable. But trust me when I say that his anguish will not end unless he hears me out.”

“What can be worth such pain?” Frodo asked, looking between Gandalf and his uncle.

Bilbo threw Gandalf a look, warning the wizard not to speak, but of course, he did anyway.

“Love,” he answered and Bilbo gritted his teeth as he refused to let past memories stir in his mind and heart.

“Love?” Frodo repeated confused, “But Bilbo has remained a bachelor all his life… hasn’t he?”

“Technically yes,” Gandalf replied hesitantly, noting the anger and pain Bilbo threw at him. “But that does not mean he never loved.”

Bilbo hung his head, he didn’t want to hear this. It was too much.

“Bilbo?”

Taking a deep breath, he realised there was no keeping it quiet now. Not now that Gandalf had excited that familiar Tookish curiosity within his nephew.

“How long have you known?” he asked Gandalf.

“Not long,” he replied, “I always suspected, but it wasn’t until Galadriel alerted me to your tortured soul that it all finally clicked.”

Bilbo nodded, “Do you remember the King from my adventure, Frodo?”

“Thorin? Yes, how could I forget? He always seemed quite grouchy in your tale,” Frodo said.

A small smile played at Bilbo’s lips, “I perhaps paid him a disservice in writing him so. He was a short tempered dwarf, as many were, especially with me at the start… but there was a kindness in him, and- a-and more love than anyone knew.”

“So you and him…”

Bilbo shook his head, “I loved him, more fiercely than anyone I have ever known. And I didn’t know it, truly, until we reached the mountain and I lost him piece by piece. First his mind, and then his body. I am just thankful his mind returned to him before the end, so that I could part from him in friendship if nothing else.” Taking a shuddering breath, he added, “I do not know if he even- if he even felt the same, well I assumed he didn’t. But I couldn’t even bring myself to ask at the end.”

Tears streamed from his eyes before he could catch them, falling silently down his cheeks. He’d never voiced this to anyone, and to do so made it feel simultaneously surreal and far too real at the same time.

Arms enveloped him before he curled in on himself and he sobbed into Frodo’s shoulder, who he hadn’t seen or heard get up.

“I’m so sorry uncle,” he said soothingly, gently rubbing Bilbo’s back as he calmed down.

Bilbo rubbed his nose as they pulled out of their embrace, Frodo remaining by his elbow.

Gandalf had been watching the scene quietly and Bilbo finally turned to him. But Gandalf spoke before he could. “It is not with cruelty that I bring this to you Bilbo,” he soothed, “I have spoken with Galadriel and we believe that all is not lost.”

“The dead can’t come back Gandalf,” Bilbo repeated.

“No they can’t,” Gandalf agreed, “But the living may seek them out.”

*

“This is ridiculous Gandalf,” Bilbo grumbled after Gandalf had explained his plan, “This is a journey for a younger hobbit, I cannot do it like this.” But even he couldn’t help but feel a pang a hope against the cold hatred of the restrictions his body placed on him.

“I could do it!” Frodo insisted, sitting forward.

“No,” Gandalf protested, “Only Bilbo can do this, and he must do this alone lest we are all put in danger. As for your body Bilbo, Galadriel will be able to temporarily restore your youth but the enchantment will only last a week. You have until then to find Thorin’s soul.”

“And if he doesn’t want to be found?” Bilbo asked. Did he have the right to go disturbing the dead? What if Thorin was happier in his halls?

“I never said this would be easy,” Gandalf said, “Mandos does not take kindly to that causing disorder within his realm and he may try to stop you. Keep to the paths and you shall find what you seek.”

Bilbo smiled, “I remember the last time you told us not to stray from the path. That hardly worked out,” Bilbo reminded him, thinking back to the dark days of Mirkwood.

“No… but this place is not like those dark forests,” Gandalf warned, “I have passed through that place myself and it is only by the grace of the valar and Eru that I returned.”

Hardly comforting. “And what about Frodo?” Bilbo asked, meeting his nephew’s worried eyes.

“We shall travel to the pastures of Yavanna where many of your family now reside,” Gandalf said. Belladonna and Bungo… Drogo and Primula…

He would see them again, but there was one more trip he had to make. One last adventure.

*

After having his youth restored by Galadriel, in some form of hokey-pokery that would have set the Shire in uproar, Bilbo spent some time getting used to his younger self again. He still made himself jump every time he looked in the mirror and saw half a stranger staring back at him but there was little time for him to linger on the shore’s of the undying lands. Time was running out every moment he spent waiting.

And so he spent no longer where he was, he packed his bags, bid farewell to his companions and set off along the path which Gandalf had directed him onto, leaving him with a crude map which would aid him on his way.

Looking down at the map clutched in one of his hands, he was distinctly reminded of the map he’d left in his study. There had been no room for such personal possessions, and he’d mainly kept it as a memory of Thorin, and of their adventure.

But if he was successful, an item of memorabilia may not be necessary.

They had made port at the Bay of Eldamar, forcing Bilbo to take the Pass of light towards where Gandalf had assured was an entrance to the underground network that led to the Halls of Mandos, and it would certainly be quicker than walking across the terrain above ground. And should he not become trapped there, he would have plenty of time to do more sightseeing when he returned.

He didn’t come across many people, elves or otherwise on his journey, he figured they must all be in the great cities that he’d heard tell about. In any case, it favoured him greatly. Gandalf had warned him that there may be those that try to stop him, and it may be harder to tell friend from foe than he’d first assume.

No, it would be best if Bilbo trusted no-one at all, not until he met his goal.

*

It took him two days to reach the hidden passage, and the ever ticking of time had weighed heavy on him for he had only 5 days left to complete the task. And time bended strangely in the pathway to the dead, Gandalf had told him, not just because there was no way to tell the time of day, but also because the realm was not truly set within the lands of the Valar.

The passage was marked out just as Gandalf had told him, a stone archway set in the middle of a circle of stone. To outsider, it would look like a ruin of some kind, an ancient settlement or place of ritual which had long since been used. But Bilbo saw the runes etched into the stone, reminiscent of the ones he’d seen in Erebor, but these were much more elven in nature.

Stepping within the circle, Bilbo shuddered even though there was no breeze. In fact, the air within the circle was suspiciously still.  A mark of magic, Bilbo thought to himself, walking to stand in front of the archway.

He took one last appreciative look of his surroundings, this may be the last daylight he sees in a while. And the last time he can truly trust what he sees in front of his eyes.

Having seen no-one was watching him, Bilbo said clearly in elvish, the words Gandalf had made him practise, “ _I seek that which is passed, and come as friend to all, for I am no servant of Melkor!”_

After a bated breath, Bilbo was about to try again, believing he must have gotten a word or pronunciation wrong. But then the archway shimmered, giving the appearance of a veil held over it.

And without daring to waste a second more, Bilbo stepped through…

Entering the halls of the Dead.


	2. No Dark is Right

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo traverses the realm of Mandos, searching for the door that will lead him to the resting place of the dwarves.

Darkness surrounded him as he stepped through the veil, and from the very shift in the air, Bilbo knew he was no longer in the Undying lands. Or not at least, the surface.

Looking behind him, he could see nothing of the place from where he had come from. There would be no going back, not that Bilbo intended to do so alone.

Slowly his eyes adjusted to the darkness and Bilbo was able to make out the shape of the room he was in. It was a cavernous room, highly domed above him and walls coming not too far beside him. And there, just at the end of the room was a door, just as Gandalf had told him.

_Look for the doors, let nothing else distract you._

Focusing his attention on the goal in front of him, Bilbo tentatively took a step forward, getting ready should anything decide to jump against him or try and stop him. But nothing happened, nothing changed save for the now frantic beating of Bilbo’s heart against his breast.

With increased confidence, he took another step, then another until he was all but running towards the door now. He didn’t look behind him, he now didn’t dare. It felt as though some mighty imposing beast was bearing down on him, breathing against his neck and causing him to shiver as he grasped onto the brass ring of the door handle, wrenching the door open.

And stepping into a pasture of green. Bilbo cried out as the intensity of the sunlight burned his eyes, covering up his eyes with his hands as he let them focus again on his surroundings.

This wasn’t right, he was supposed to be below ground, _not above it!_

Breathing heavily, Bilbo gazed around him and recognised the small rolling hills as smials, tiny chimneys poking above the grass and bellowing smoke into the air. Hobbits coalesced in the valley, going about their business, walking to their homes or speaking to one another.

For a moment, Bilbo thought he was back in the Shire. But then he realised that he didn’t recognise anyone here, nor did he recognise the layout of the land before him.

He was in the pastures of Yavanna.

Confused, Bilbo allowed the beating of his heart to settle as he started walking towards the little village. Was this a trick of Mandos? Or had he been turned back as quickly as he’d entered? And if that was the case, Bilbo had no idea how he would go out returning. He didn’t think he’d have the time to go and find the archway again.

His nerves setting in, he approached the first hobbit who was crouched near a hedgerow, planting a shrub in his border.

Clearing his throat, “Excuse me,” he started, “I was wondering if you could tell me-”

His words died in his throat as the hobbit straightened and turned towards him.

“Father,” Bilbo gasped, eyes widening as they fell on a slighting younger version of the father he had known.

Bungo smiled, and Bilbo thought he recognised him, but then he said, “Ah, thank you my dear.”

Turning, Bilbo gasped once more as he recognised the lady hobbit before him. “Mom…”

Her eyes slid past him, full of joy but not for him. Bilbo watched as she passed his father a cup of steaming tea. His father had always liked his tea…

Resting her arm of a pitchfork, she gazed at her husband with a love that Bilbo only now could truly understand. The smile which had graced her features slipped a little with her next words. “How old would he be now?”

Bungo looked at her cautiously, before answering confidently, “He would have turned 131 last month.”

“You don’t think…”

Bungo carefully placed his cup on a pillar of stone, freeing his hands to he could draw his wife into a hug. “We don’t know anything yet. The last hobbit from the Shire to pass through said he’d gone to Rivendell, we can only hope the elves are caring for him.”

“But what if his soul hasn’t passed on?” Belladonna asked desperately, pulling out her husband’s embrace to stare into his eyes. “What if he’s faded?”

Bilbo didn’t understand what she meant, but he could barely stand being unable to comfort her nor ease her pain. He wanted to let them know he was safe and fine, but he couldn’t. He just hoped that Gandalf and Frodo would arrive soon and let them know where he was. But even then, that would do little to ease their worry.

Bungo’s eyes saddened, but he gave her the best smile he could, kissing his wife’s forehead. “I’d say there is no use worrying, but I know you will anyway.”

“Damn right I will,” Belladonna said hotly, “Nearly gave me a heart attack when I heard he’d disappeared for over a year.”

“It’s a good thing he took after you,” Bungo replied, calming his wife with his words. “Or he’d never have made it back from his adventure. Especially if he took after me.”

Belladonna snorted, “If he took after you, he’d still be cooped up in Bag-End and wouldn’t have left in the first place.”

“You were the only adventure I needed,” Bungo said softly, making Belladonna roll her eyes, but he couldn’t miss the small smile playing at her lips.

“If you’re going to get soppy, I’ll leave you to your gardening. I promised Primula and Drogo I’d visit today, they’re only just getting over their news about Frodo.”

“Kiss for luck?” Bungo teased.

Smiling, Belladonna gently pecked Bungo’s lips before taking her leave, swatting away his wondering hands with a giggle. Bungo watched his wife walk down the path for a moment before laughing softly, shaking his head and getting back down on his knees to pull up some weeds.

Bilbo couldn’t help but smile longingly at his parent’s happiness. This was them, doing what they always did for him as a child. To make the most of their circumstances, no matter how painful the grief became.

With reluctance and a heavy heart, Bilbo tore his eyes away from his father’s work and watched as his mother slowly disappeared from view. He was half tempted to join her, to see Drogo and Primula again. But he knew the further he went into this, the more time he would spend here before he was afraid he’d never leave again.

It had surprised him that they knew of his adventure, he hadn’t considered that the passing of hobbits in the Shire would bring news of his activities to them. He’d always assumed in a way that they were always looking down on him wherever he was. And they had in a way. Just not in the way he had expected.

Hardening his resolve, Bilbo walked in the opposite direction to his mother, weaving between hobbits who looked through him unseeing.

Gazing around him, it was not long before he found a set of two doors blocking his path.

He had to choose.

Reminding himself not to rush into making a decision, even with the pressing weight of time around him, Bilbo carefully studied the doors in front of him. The one on the right bore designs seemingly unfamiliar to Bilbo, but as he carefully studied them, he was able to make out dwarven runes, almost like the ones he’d seen in Erebor. Could this be the route through the halls of Mandos and to where he knew the dwarves would be? Gandalf had told him that Aulё’s halls were merely an extension of Mandos’s realm, the dead never staying too far from their true god.

Following the runes, he saw them translated into an elven text that was not very familiar to him. Whilst he could read Sindarin with ease, this was not so easy to read and Bilbo suspected it was much older than the language he was familiar with.

But what little he could make out, he managed to get the words, ‘death’, ‘Mahal’ and ‘Mandos’. That would seem to be the right path, but Bilbo decided to inspect the other door before he made a rash decision that could cost him dearly.

The other door was more complex in design. The wood was deep mahogany and the carvings were that of twisting vines and flowers which arched their way towards the apex of the door. There were no words transcribed on the wood but Bilbo could feel the mark of Yavanna on the wood. It drew him closer, tempting him to open it, for he knew he’d find her pastures on the other side.

He would be able to see his parents again, put their worry at ease and wait for Frodo and Gandalf to join them…

A biter tug at his heart reminded him of his venture. This was not where he was supposed to be, not just yet.

Stepping backwards, his legs feeling like lead, Bilbo forced himself towards the other door. And without giving himself the moment to think twice, he wrenched open the new door.

Snow fell from the sky above him, or maybe it was ash. Because an all too familiar scene lay before him.

No… not this place, Bilbo thought desperately, ghosts of pain lancing through him.

Looking back, he saw the door he had come through was still there. It was shut but Bilbo suspected that, should he wish, he would be able to go through it. And take the other door into the pastures of Yavanna.

Shame filled him as he reflected at his thoughts of leaving. After all he had been through, throughout his whole life, he would consider giving up now? When this was just a memory, nothing more? Mandos could do better if he hoped to dissuade him from his path.

Turning his back on the door, Bilbo held his head high and forced one foot in front of the other, walking up the cold slopes of Ravenhill.

It was just as he remembered it, if not somewhat clearer since his memory had dulled everything slightly.

He knew if he was to find the next door, he would have to pass over this hill. Mandos was challenging him, protecting his realm by forcing Bilbo to make difficult choices and relive his worst memory.

After what felt like an age, the hill started to level out, and Bilbo made it to the ruins of the watch towers. Like a ghost, Bilbo could almost hear the cries which had echoed around the battlefield that day- the clangs of metal, the war cries and the cries of fear. Those had never left him, and now they had followed him to a place he’d thought he’d find peace.

But as Gandalf had reminded him, peace was not so easy to find for his soul.

Hoping against hope that there would be nothing on the ice, Bilbo started the slow walk towards the frozen lake. He took the same path he did that very day, shortly after he’d woken up from having his head knocked.

He scrambled stone walls, ignoring the biting cold of the stone and keeping his focus on remembering which way he’d taken.

After a few minutes of climbing, Bilbo feared he had taken a wrong turn, but then he came to the break in the wall, and with it, the view onto the ice.

A pitiful whine escaped him before he could stop himself, because there they were. Azog’s body lay on the ice, still with Orcist’s blade pinning him through the icy sheet below him. And just a few feet away were the broken bodies of Fili and Kili, completely still after having fallen defending their uncle. Behind them was a crumbled mass that Bilbo could only assume was Thorin, the dwarf whom he loved.

Without thinking, Bilbo began to descend the steps towards the lake, feeling lightheaded as he did so. It was if he couldn’t help himself from looking. He knew this wasn’t real, but he hadn’t seen these dwarves for over 80 years, and whilst he couldn’t say he ever wanted to see them in this state again, part of him longed for something of them again.

The first bodies he came too were that of Fili and Kili. Fili’s body was slightly thrown over Kili’s, where he’d fallen protecting his younger brother and uncle besides.

Sorrow filled him as he looked down on them. If it weren’t for the twisted angle of their bodies and the blood, they could have been sleeping.

He sent a silent prayer to Yavanna and Mahal that they were safe in the Aulё’s and Mandos’s care. After his adventure, he’d taken to including Mahal in his prayers, hoping that they would somehow reach his fallen friends.

Walking past them, it was with familiar dread that he looked down on the body of Thorin. Kneeling down, Bilbo couldn’t help but move the strand of hair away from Thorin’s eyes, moving it to the side to lie with the rest.

And then he did something he wished he’d done that day. He bent down and kissed Thorin’s cold forehead, in what he would recognise as an act of love, but to others, an act of farewell.

However this was not farewell, this was a message that he would see Thorin soon. And it was that thought alone which stopped Bilbo from breaking down with these apparitions.

Taking a shuddering breath, Bilbo removed himself from Thorin’s side and looked for the next door.

True to his expectations, a large wooden door stood not a few paces away on the ice. There was no choice this time, just an expectation that he would continue.

Giving himself a last look towards his fallen friends, Bilbo put away the grief which filled his heart as he opened the next door, dearly wishing that his ordeal would be over soon.

This door was heavier than the others, and it took all of Bilbo’s strength to force the hinges open. But as soon as he stepped through, the door slammed shut behind him, trapping him in this new room. For he was now not in one of his memories, although for a second he thought he was. But apart from its occupant, the room itself was completely unfamiliar to Bilbo.

He was in a large, domed cavern, similar to the one he’d been in the first time. But where that room had been empty, this one was not. With shaking limbs, Bilbo backed himself against the wall, staring wide eyed at the monstrous figure in front of him.

A creature that could have been in his nightmares, for he was in them often enough, lay before him.

Smaug.

And if the chains which circled the creature’s limbs and neck were anything to go by, this was not an apparition. The dragon had its head tucked under a wing and Bilbo made to skirt the room around him, but before he could, the huge mass of dark scales stirred.

Repressing a startled cry, Bilbo could only watch helplessly as Smaug removed his head from under his wing, blinking open his large, orange eyes. He didn’t have his ring to hide him this time.

As Smaug’s eyes fell upon Bilbo, his face cracked into a bitter smile, “Ah thief,” he crooned, “Here we are again, have you come to play riddles with me?” he mocked.

Steeling himself against one of his greatest foes, Bilbo managed to hide his fear as best he could. “I did not expect to see you again, O’ Smaug, the fallen,” Bilbo returned, shocked at his own bravery. But if he remembered anything about the dragon, it was that compliments would be short lived, especially now, after all their history.

To his surprise, Smaug laughed, in a cold way which would have sent chills down the hobbit’s spine, if it wasn’t for all his experience with dragons. “I guessed you would come this way eventually, either in death or life. Judging by the scent of magic on you, I think in life.”

“Why are you here?” Bilbo couldn’t help but ask. From what he understood of the dark creations of Melkor, they did not have a place here in the Undying lands, especially not in the halls of the sacred dead.

Smaug grinned, flashing some of his wretched teeth, “I stand guard over the gates to the halls of the dead, specifically the region belonging to that foul god of _dwarves._ He thought death was not a sufficient punishment for me. And so here I stand, stripped bare of my wealth and might. So tell me, thief of the shadows, why should I permit you to enter?”

“Because if you do, I will reveal to you how I managed to steal that cup from you. How I managed to remain invisible to your eye and take from your treasure hoard.”

Smaug hummed, “An item of magic and gold you carried. But I cannot sense it on you any longer.”

“I gave it to my nephew,” Bilbo answered the implied question, not saying that it was now lost from the world. He wanted Smaug to feel that it was still within his family’s power, if not on his person.

“How unfortunate,” Smaug growled, “But you have yourself a deal thief, tell me your secret and I shall let you by, for either way, you shall not be stealing from me again.”

Bilbo didn’t know what he meant by that but he ignored the dragon’s words, the dragon liked his riddles as much as he did and he would not be playing them with him again. “Not until you show me the door,” Bilbo countered, he was no fool as to believe the dragon would entirely keep his word.

Grumbling, the dragon shifted, dragging his chains as he moved his body to the side, revealing the large door behind him. The door to the halls of the dwarves. To Thorin.

Moving slowly, Bilbo began heading towards the door, keeping an eye on the dragon. Smaug only permitted him to go so far before he threw out his tail, blocking his way.

Taking the wordless cue, Bilbo began recounting all he knew about the ring, right from the creature he’d taken it from to what Gandalf had since told him about the ring of power.

When he was finished, Smaug snarled, “Of course,” he cursed, “Blind as I was not to see it. A ring worth more than all the treasure in that whole mountain, and I let it slip by. What I could have done under the threat of that ring…”

Bilbo allowed the dragon to continue muttering his plans of what could have been if he had had the ring in his collection, moving towards the door when Smaug’s tail had shifted to allow him through.

The door was almost too large for him to reach the handle, but Bilbo was just able to reach it. Looking back, he saw Smaug was now watching him carefully.

“Farewell thief, I do not think we shall meet again.”

Bilbo nodded once, “Farewell Smaug,” he bid, pulling open the door and slipping through the doors.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter tomorrow :) Any mistakes, please let me know, I'm having to upload this in the middle of the night :P 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Kudos, comments appreciated :)
> 
> Have a majestic day!


	3. Dying of the Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo searches for Thorin in the halls of the dwarves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day! It is with the ending of this fic that I gift this work to some awesome individuals who have supported me here or on tumblr or both, and make me laugh :3 Thank you <3 
> 
> (knowing me I have probably forgotten someone so if I end up adding more people soon, just flow with it, and I'm really sorry if I do! xD)

Bilbo blinked as his eyes once again adjusted to the change in light and his ears twitched under the sudden onslaught of sound. It was as if he’d just emerged from being underwater, where all light and sound are dimmer, to the surface where everything was clearer.

He couldn’t help but feel intimidated as he found himself in a room full of dwarves in what appeared to be an entrance hall, with many tunnels leading off to the left and right of the great circular room. Feeling a bud of hope spring in his chest, Bilbo watched the dwarves bustle by, they were all too absorbed in their own business to notice that one of their members was not like them.

He knew it was unlikely that he’d find Thorin or one of the company here, but he couldn’t help but look and hope that he would see one of them.

Despite it all, Bilbo had made it into the halls of the dead and into the halls of Aulё. And whilst there was an ever present threat that he may still be forcibly removed and sent back to Yavanna’s pastures, he couldn’t help but think that if the valar had let him get this far, they may not be entirely opposed to him going just a little bit further.

Now that he was here, he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do. All of his planning and discussions with Gandalf had been how to get to this point. From here, he was supposed to find the King himself. And he couldn’t say how much time had passed between his leaving and arriving, he could only hope that he had enough.

Feeling brave, he approached a tall dwarf who was stood reading some papers off to one-side.

“I beg your parden, sir,” Bilbo began, grabbing the dwarf’s attention who, in Bilbo’s opinion, should have looked more surprised at having found a hobbit wandering his halls, but Bilbo continued on, “I was wondering if you might tell me where I can find the Durins.”

The dwarf raised his grizzled eyebrows, “You seek the line of Durin?”

Bilbo nodded, “Yes, I am a friend of many of their family. Do you know where they reside?”

To Bilbo’s relief, he nodded, “Take that tunnel in the middle there. That will take you to the halls of Kings. From there, look for the Durin family crest above the archways and you’ll find their resting halls.”

“Thank you,” Bilbo breathed, wasting no time in hurrying towards the tunnel which the kindly dwarf had pointed him to.

With his increased activity, he saw that he got some stares and mutterings as he passed, but so long as they didn’t disturb him and let him pass, he didn’t care what they said or thought of him.

It was when he was about halfway through the tunnel that he felt the first pang of discomfort in his hip. Pausing, Bilbo rubbed the spot gently and then gazed down at his hands. He gasped and what he saw, his hands were no longer as youthful as they had been at the start of his journey, the skin was looser and wrinkled as it had been a couple decades after his adventure.

Time was catching up with him.

Ignoring the pain, Bilbo pushed on, forever keeping an eye out for the symbols that he would recognise as belonging to the Durins. At the end of the tunnel, he found himself in a room which split into seven, one for each of the seven fathers of the dwarves.

From his memories, Bilbo recalled the symbol which had been spread throughout the halls of Erebor. Seven stars stretched over a helm, below which sat a hammer and an anvil. Balin had told him what it meant during the dark days of Thorin’s goldsickness, when there was little to do other than study the new home in which he’d found himself.

It was quieter here, fewer dwarves were passing through and the reduced crowd helped to calm Bilbo’s nerves as he searched for the symbol above the curved archways. Each archway was inlaid with precious ores, many of which he couldn’t identify as being any more than being red or green, but others he could clearly identify as gold, silver or mithril.

The thought of the precious metal brought Bilbo’s hand to his chest where his mithril shirt now lay against his breast. Frodo had returned the item to him shortly before his departure, saying that he would have no need of it in Yavanna’s care. He’d almost forgotten he had it, light as it was, and it filled him with a sense of pride that he would be seeing Thorin again with the last gift the King had given him.

Scanning the room, a small smile lighted his features as he found the symbol above an archway to his left.

With hope and curious excitement lightening his footsteps, Bilbo hurried down the tunnel. At the back of his mind, with the hope was also a slight fear. What would he say to Thorin? He fully intended to confess his feelings at long last, but what if they weren’t reciprocated? He felt like a young hobbit with his first crush, dithering with the excitement of love but also the fear that it may be short lived.

Whatever happened, he had to remind himself that it was enough to simply be reunited with the stubborn dwarf, even if they could be no more than friends. Their bittersweet farewell had done little to offer him comfort.

He slowed as he reached a large rectangular chamber, gasping at the beauty of the room that even he could appreciate. Tapestries hung around the walls and great stone carvings ran up the huge stone pillars that supported the ceiling. Coming to the first pillar, he could see that the carvings depicted great historical events of the Durin’s past.

Even though he was largely unfamiliar with Dwarven history, even he could see that the first tapestry told the story of Aulё making the seven fathers, and then threatening to destroy them all after Eru had expressed his displeasure of their existence. From then on, after Mahal had spared their lives, the history became murkier for Bilbo and it was a regret of his that he had not learned the history of a race he had come to love.

But, Mahal willing, he may have the time to learn it yet.

“Is that…” a familiar voice said behind him.

“Bilbo!” another voice called and Bilbo turned just in time to see two figures barrelling towards him. He barely had time to breathe before he was pulled into a bone crushing hug, the two young dwarves clinging tightly to either side of him.

Wrapping his arms around the two princes in turn, Bilbo muttered, “It’s nice to see you again boys,” against the swell of emotion in his chest. They stood there for a moment, delighting in their reunion. Dwarves around them smiled as they passed, but gave them as much privacy as they could in a scene that they were entirely too familiar with now.

Bilbo sniffed as Fili and Kili finally extracted themselves from his side, still staying very close.

And then Kili’s face split into a childish grin, “Just wait until everyone finds out you’re here! We never thought we’d see you again, how on earth did you get pass the dragon?”

Chuckling, Bilbo winked at the young dwarf, “I’ll tell you later,” he promised, fully intending to tell his whole story to them later, but first he wanted to be reunited with his companions.

“Shall I let you boys lead on?” he said questionably to them both and Fili clasped his shoulder companionably.

“I think everyone’s currently having dinner in the great hall, we best go and surprise them,” he said, leading Bilbo down the tunnel where they’d come from. “We’d sneaked off to steal some of uncle’s throwing knives but that can wait.”

Something started in Bilbo to hear such a casual reference to Thorin and his heart quickened in anticipation of meeting him again. He thought it odd that Thorin would have throwing knives, but then maybe he had taken to learning new weapons in their time apart.

The great hall was even larger than Smaug’s chamber had been, and far better smelling besides. The rich smells of meat, and gravy and spices made Bilbo’s stomach growl, reminding him that he had barely eaten since the start of his venture.

“They’re round this way,” Kili said happily, tugging on Bilbo’s arm as he led the hobbit towards a long table set towards the edge of the hall.

Bilbo saw them all before they did. The company were sat there, just as he remembered them, if not a little bit younger, especially Balin whose hair was as dark as Dwalin’s striking mohawk. His cheeks ached from the intensity of his smile as he couldn’t help but beam at their antics. Bofur was throwing food towards Bombur’s mouth, missing on one occasion, much to the displeasure of Bifur who made a show of forking the chunk of meat and taking it for himself.

They all looked so happy. A joy so infectious that Bilbo couldn’t help but feel it spread unto himself. A few unfamiliar faces sat with them and they could only be what Bilbo guessed were the company’s family. And a pang of disappointment set through him as Bilbo realised Thorin was not among them, but the king could be anywhere. Bilbo just had to be patient a little longer.  

Without further ado, Fili loudly cleared his throat to try and draw the attention of his fellows, but they were all so absorbed in their eating they did not hear him.

Helping in the only way he could think, Kili released Bilbo’s arm and jumped onto the table, kicking food in all directions but managing to get the attention of the dwarves.

“Listen up you beardless wits,” Kili teased, receiving a few mocking jokes back at his own state of facial hair. “A dear friend of ours, has _come home!”_ he shouted, waving his arms in the direction of Bilbo, who was still stood beaming at them all.

Jaws dropped as eyes were laid on the hobbit before him. The shocked silence was short lived as many cries of “Bilbo!” and “Our hobbit has returned!” rang through the hall. The dwarves had quickly removed themselves from the table and were now in the process of hugging the life out of said hobbit.

Bilbo couldn’t help the tears which streamed down his face at having been reunited with his dearest friends.

It was all a blur of beards and hugs and near misses as Dwalin decided to try and knock their foreheads together, to which Bilbo did his best to avoid without offence.

And he couldn’t help but laugh when Bofur reached him and cried out, “I’m so glad yeh weren’t incinerated!” before pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

Bilbo did his best to pat the dwarf’s back, mumbling, “me too,” through his tears.

As the initial excitement calmed down, he found himself surrounded by his friends, some as equally tearful as he was, others just beaming at their burglar. Kili had since removed himself from the table and was now standing by his brother and another dwarf whom Bilbo did not know.

It reminded Bilbo of when he’d returned to them just after their flight through the goblin tunnels, when he’d made his choice to stay and help, and not run away from his chance of doing some good in the world.

There was just one person missing, one person who he had walked this almighty way to see.

It was then he dared to ask them, “Where’s Thorin?” half expecting the dwarf to appear behind him or to push through the crowd and ask what had gotten everyone so excited. What he didn’t expect was for the company’s smiles to falter and become replaced by a sadness that Bilbo was not comfortable with.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, his voice quiet, but he knew they had heard him.

Balin was the first to step forward, “Come and sit down laddie, I expect you’re tired after your journey and we have much to discuss.”

Bewildered and now very worried, Bilbo followed Balin to the seats at the end of the table, the company filling in around them as they now resumed their eating with less fervour. Fili and Kili sat either side of him as the unfamiliar dwarf and Balin sat across from them.

Wordlessly, Balin passed Bilbo a plate of food which he cautiously picked at, eyeing the dwarves suspiciously as he tried to find an answer to their behaviour.

“I don’t understand,” Bilbo said, “Where is Thorin?” he repeated, this time with more desperation.

Fili and Kili looked ramose beside him and Balin looked as though he was about to speak, but could not find the words.

The unknown dwarf next to Balin finally provided an answer, “His soul did not pass through,” he said sadly.

“What do you mean?” Bilbo asked him, “Who are you?” he asked, now finding something familiar about the dwarf’s deep blue eyes.

“My name is Frerin,” the dwarf answered and it clicked within Bilbo. It had been this dwarf that Fili and Kili had been talking about, not Thorin. If it wasn’t for the dwarf’s blonde hair and beard, he would have been a spitting image of Thorin.

Frerin continued, “What do you understand about dwarven ones?” he asked.

“Not much,” Bilbo answered, “But I don’t understand what this has to do with Thorin’s soul!”

“You will,” Frerin answered, “Some dwarves are only born with half of a soul. The other half exists in the breast of another being in middle-earth. We did not know my brother had one until his soul failed to pass through. I always did wonder why he spurred my attempts to match him with someone, I had just assumed he was not interested at all.”

Kili added, “We didn’t know he’d died until some dwarves passed on and gave us the news.”

The words whirled in Bilbo’s head and made him feel sick to his stomach. He didn’t care so much that Thorin had a one who was clearly not him, it was that Thorin’s soul was now Eru knows where and the hope that Bilbo had of finally making his peace was now dying within him.

Seeing his distress, Frerin continued, “It is not that his soul is lost entirely, part of it rests here in this kingdom. However he will not awaken until his one passes on too and acknowledges the bond. Since I assume they never said it in life, they will have to do it in death.”

Putting his head in his hands, Bilbo asked, “So his soul is lost until his one find him?”

Fili answered, “Our father still sleeps in the halls of waiting. His soul is waiting for our mother to pass on, and until she does, he will not awaken.”

Balin said, “But whilst we can be certain of his eventual awakening, we cannot be certain of Thorin’s. We can only hope his one was aware of the bond so that they may find each other. If not, he will never awaken.”

The words did nothing to offer the comfort Bilbo had sought after. “Is it possible for me to see him?”

The prince’s looked to Balin, unsure of their own answer. “I would think so laddie if you wanted to, but what you will find is but a sleeping shade of the dwarf you knew.”

Standing, Bilbo said, “I still need to see. I came all this way to make my peace but if this is all I can get, I will take it.”

Nodding, Balin, gestured at the prince’s, “The boys can take you if they’re willing. I have been to that place far too often.”

“We’ll take him,” Kili agreed, the three princes standing with the hobbit to lead him out of the hall. As Bilbo passed, many of the company gave him sympathetic pats which Bilbo did his best to return with smiles.

They walked in silence for the most part, the joy of his return having worn thin under the weight of this ill news.

Confusion and pain dominated Bilbo’s heart. Gandalf had led him to believe that he would be able to see Thorin again. Was this all he had meant? Or perhaps the wizard had simply not known of Thorin’s condition. If that was the case, then Bilbo had no-one to blame in the matter, it was entirely his prerogative.

They led him through many halls and corridors, past many dwarves who nodded their heads in respect of the prince’s that escorted him.

It became even quieter and more empty the further they led him, and it was not long before they came to a very long corridor which Bilbo couldn’t see the end of. On either side, Bilbo could see countless wooden doors, above which was inscribed a tablet in Khuzdul that Bilbo couldn’t read but what he assumed were names.

Taking a torch from the sconce next to them, Frerin led them on until they came to a door on their right.

“You don’t have to go inside if you don’t want to,” Frerin reminded him, “No-one would judge you for not wanting to see him in this way.”

“I need to,” Bilbo repeated, moving in front of the door. When his companions did not follow him, he threw a questioning look at them.

Fili said softly, “We’ll give you some privacy.”

Bilbo nodded his thanks, turning the door handle to enter the final room on his long journey. He closed it behind him before he fully took in the sight before him, unsure of how he was going to react.

The room was small and simple, cold grey stone ran along the walls and a torch flickered in a sconce beside him, casting an eerie light upon them. In the centre of the room was a great stone table, on which lay the body of the King Bilbo had loved.

He was transported then, back to the final time he’d seen Thorin, on the day of the funeral. He’d looked just like this, except he no longer had Orcrist nor the Arkenstone. And instead of the royal garb he had been dressed in, he now wore a deep blue tunic and simple trousers and boots.

Sighing, Bilbo made his way around the table towards the dwarf, keeping his footsteps slow and quiet, as though all the dead could hear him.

“We do make a sorry pair,” Bilbo said sadly, with the barest hint of humour which died as he came to a standstill by his friend.

Unable to stop himself, Bilbo continued on, “I thought many times what I would say to you when next we met, but I never quite imagined our next meeting being like this,” tears began to roll down his cheeks and he made no effort to stop them, he simply accepted them, as he had accepted his love for Thorin all those years ago.

“I suppose,” Bilbo started shakily, “All there is to say are the words I should have said when we were on that Eru-forsaken ice and you insisted on leaving me.” Swallowing hard, Bilbo allowed the words to flow out of him, “That I love you Thorin,” a chocked laugh escaped him at having finally said it out loud, “and I know I’m not your ‘one’ or anything more than a friend to you, but part of me always wished that some affection had lain in your heart for me. As my heart had reached out to you.”

Taking a moment to wipe some of the stinging tears from his eyes, Bilbo added on, “I will say farewell to you my friend, one last time and send a prayer to Mahal for you that your one, whomever they may be, finds you soon, so that you may be free and I may hug my friend again.”

Biting back a sob, Bilbo did his best to dry his face as he took another step closer to his friend, “Goodbye Thorin,” he said softly, gently pressing a kiss to the dwarf’s forehead, and then before he could stop himself, to the dwarf’s lukewarm lips. And finally, in the traditional farewell of hobbits, Bilbo took one of Thorin’s heavy hands in both of his, lifting it to his lips so that he may kiss the back of Thorin’s hand.

Sniffling, Bilbo made to put Thorin’s hand back where it was, resting against his stomach when he felt the fingers twitch between his.

At first he thought it a trick, a delusion of his mind created by his grief. But then the hand moved again, returning the grip Bilbo had on it. Barely allowing any hope to bud within him, Bilbo followed the dwarf’s arm to his shoulder and finally to his face.

A small gasp escaped him as he watched Thorin slowly blink his eyes open, tiredly coming to meet Bilbo’s fearful ones.

“Bilbo…” he said hoarsely, a small smile spreading across his cheeks.

“Thorin,” Bilbo answered, unsure what to say. He didn’t know what this meant, he didn’t know what any of it means anymore.

“My Bilbo,” Thorin said, his voice becoming clearer as his other hand reached up to cradle Bilbo’s cheek. Bilbo instinctively leaned into the hand, not truly believing that any of this could be real. His eyes shut under the pleasant warmth that began to fill him.

But he could not resist opening his eyes again, making sure that Thorin was not simply another apparition that would escape him again. When he found Thorin was still there and smiling at him fondly, Bilbo felt tears slip down his cheeks again.

He must look a right mess, but he couldn’t find himself to care at that moment. “I thought I’d lost you,” Bilbo sobbed, coming forward to press his cheek against the dwarf’s chest. The slow thrum of Thorin’s beating heart helped to reassure him that he was here. His soul had returned.

Bilbo felt Thorin’s arms come around him and a soft kiss being pressed into his hair. “And I you,” Thorin answered, emotion leaking into the dwarf’s voice.

Realising that Thorin was probably uncomfortable lying there with Bilbo half on top of him, Bilbo slowly extracted himself, allowing the king to come into a sitting position. With their hands entwined, Thorin urged Bilbo to come and sit with him, tucking the hobbit into his side where he fit all too well.

“I don’t understand,” Bilbo repeated, unable to be more eloquent than that.

“Understand what?” Thorin asked, nuzzling into Bilbo’s hair.

“I thought…” Bilbo started, “Well, Frerin told me that you would not awaken unless your one came to you.”

Sighing, Thorin moved so that he could stare into Bilbo’s eyes, “That’s right,” he said, and before Bilbo could protest, he continued, “and for the longest time, I thought I never would waken. For I know who my one was and if what they said about the halls of the dead were true, I knew it would not be simple for my one to find me.”

When Bilbo continued to frown, Thorin smiled gently, “ _You_ are my one, Bilbo. I was going to tell you after the battle, but I did not want to leave you with the burden of my love at the end when nothing could grow from it.”

Bilbo could only sit there stricken and without any words as Thorin filled the silence with his words, “I have been wondering in the darkness with the hope you may come to me one day. And just when I had nearly given up, I heard your voice call to me and bring me home.”

Unable to sit there and listen to the words of his love when he could offer none of his own, Bilbo instead cupped Thorin’s cheeks and brought their lips together. And when Thorin returned it with equal fervour, a completeness settled within him, filling his chest and making his heart sing.

As they pulled apart for breath, Thorin kept their foreheads connected and a singular finger curled under his chin to draw their eyes together.

“It is with bad news that I come to you,” Bilbo then said, no longer being able to hold it from the dwarf any more. Thorin frowned at him, eyes filling with worry. “I have not passed on Thorin,” Bilbo explained, “This body of mine, is withering, even now I am getting older and before long I will return to the state I was when I left middle-earth.”

Thorin continued to look confused, “But you look no older than the day we parted,” Thorin said and Bilbo wished then that he had a mirror of some kind. But looking down at his hands, he could see that they had again returned to the youthful state they had been the moment Galadriel had blessed him.

“How…”

Thorin calmed his queries with a kiss to his nose, “Perhaps it is a gift from the valar, now that our souls are no longer rendered apart,” he said, and when Bilbo continued to look worried, he continued, “Or maybe this is a dream. Your dream, my dream, it does not matter. So long as no-one dares to wake us.”

Bilbo couldn’t help but smile, “I think I could live with that,” he said, smiling as he tilted his head to draw Thorin into another kiss.

He’d done what he’d set out to do and more. Now that all was left for them was to continue for the rest of their days with their souls firmly entwined.

For now that they had found and completed each other, none, not even death, was strong enough to render them apart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Valentine's day everyone! :D 
> 
> I hope the happy ending made up for the angsty trips ;P Thank you all who have supported this fic and all the ones in my series, you're all awesome!   
> If you enjoyed, please consider leaving a comment, it makes my afternoon of having cold hands typing this worth it :P And if there are any mistakes, please do let me know :3
> 
> Have a majestic day!
> 
> Don't forget to join me on tumbles for more madness :P

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> Next chapter soon! 
> 
> Have a majestic day!


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